Rhythms of Reparation, Gulutown

I'm alive! I hope I haven't scared anyone by not posting in the last few days. We've had computers around, but they are very slow and we haven't had the time to sit down and wait. BUT, so as to not make Mom worry any longer, here is a much anticipated blog update :)

We arrived in Gulu yesterday a bit tired, hungry and sore... but so excited to finally be what we'd been learning about all week in Kampala.

The 5 days in Kampala were so educational. We met with Dr. Martin Aliker, a highly successful Acholi who sits on at least 8 boards in central and east Africa. Do a google search, I'm sure there is more than enough information about him. We proposed to him all of our projects and partnerships which revolve around music as healing, and he said, "What you are doing is different." And different is good! So many NGOs and Westerners here are actually making the problems worse and postponing the healing and recovery that must go on with these people. We will be meeting with Dr. Aliker again once we return from Gulu next Monday.

We also met with Musa, the Minister of Disaster Preparedness and Refugees while in Kampala about a linkage with the University of TN's Homeland Security Nursing program. He is going to discuss the possible linkage with the Minister of Health, and we will do another follow-up once we return from Gulu.

I hope I can give more details about Kampala once I have more time to include pictures.

Now, more about the incredible Northern Uganda.

To get here, our bus ride was supposed to take 4-4 1/2 hours, but really took around 6 hours. It was a Postal Bus and was filled mostly with Ugandans. We got stuck in the back of the bus because it had the only window seats left. And because the roads are so bad, we in the back got the brunt of the bumps. Even though Erin and I were strapped in, it was nothing for us to fly into the air, grasping for anything to hold on to. At one of the first mail drop-offs along the way, I thought we were being ambushed. People rushed the bus, yelling, and then I realized they were trying to sell us water and snacks. At various junctions along the way I tried bananas, boiled peanuts (which were purple!), and grilled corn. The corn tasted almost like popcorn.

Speaking of food, Erin and I have been sick since about the 3rd day in Kampala. Nothing serious, but the food is causing some upset stomachs. We're both feeling much better today!

Last night was our first night in Gulu, and we met the famous Bishop Ochola at the Acholi Inn. He has been a leading actor in the Juba peacetalks. We had a debate over dinner over how to best heal the trauma of 21 years of war. Sarah, a friend from NUGEN, is very committed to the psychosocial support and counselling. Bishop Ochola is a firm supporter of mercy. He thinks that justice involved mercy. I was curious what must come first, mercy or psychosocial healing. I'm afraid that some of the people, like the youth and child mothers, aren't mentally in a state to be able to forgive. They haven't even processed their trauma.

One very important thing we've been hearing from all of the Acholi we've been talking to the last week is that there is such a tremendous neglect in Northern Uganda. The streets in Gulu are crawling with NGO SUVs, but they are only offering short term, material aid. No one is really addressing individual healing, counseling, or rehabiliation. These people are expected to leave these camps they have been in for more than 10 years and begin life over. But the elders are gone, the older generation which was self-sufficient is gone, and none of these young mothers and fathers know how to raise a family, produce crops, build homes. And no one is addressing this.

The historical memory also has been largely forgotten in all of these Western development plans. Even when people are issued objects like gardening hoes, these tools carry such memories of trauma. For the last 21 years these have been used as weapons, not as bringers of crops and life. So I have heard so many stories of young boys going into the fields with their fathers, getting tired, and killing their fathers. There are not programs which are teaching anger management and social skills. All some of these children know is survival. A dark, bloody survival.

This morning we witnessed the most beautiful sight, a traditional Acholi wedding complete with 30+ traditional dancers. It was so wonderful to see a praise song with people happy and joyful. So often all we have heard of is tradegy here. But the people's spirits still have the capability to dance! And be thankful for their life.

After, we went to our first IDP camps. We spoke to women and child mothers who are doing an adult empowerment program where they learn to speak and write English. The advanced pupils told us their names and their dreams. I wanted to break down right there. One girl, Agnes, is probably 20. She has one child and can't even remember her old dreams. I think NUGEN is going to sponsor her to go to university. I cannot wait to meet her when I return. George told this beautiful story of an eagle that was raised with chickens. He forgot her was an eagle until one day he had to run. And he realized her could fly. He is an eagle, king of the birds! I think this story inspired so many of the women sitting before us who have given up our their potential to be eagles again.

We walked around the camp and saw the huts the people live in. They are small and dark and if one catches fire (they cook in them when they have wood) as many as 2000 can burn. A troupe of 30 children followed us around. They were so observant of every move we made, and it was very hard to communicate with them because they knew no English. They wore rags. And some had no clothes at all. But they were so beautiful. I can't get my pictures to load, but I will be sure to post them as soon as I have a broadband connection.

We ate lunch at Acholi Inn courtesy of the Crane Bank opening in Gulu. I do not know how successful the bank will actually be because in all the years that the Acholi really needed help, no banks came. Now they are rushing here, and I have been told they are only a front for the Museveni government to cooperate with Sudan. I don't completely understand, so I will have to ask more questions. Things are often not what they seem here. Many places are fronts for illegal exchanges.

Before I sign off, I have to tell a story that brought me to tears the other night. George's wife Catherine runs a project Tears to Flowers. When she came to Gulu a few years back, she met a group of child mothers, many with children of LRA rebels that raped them. She wrote a beautiful poem to share with these girls who had no hope and whose spirits were completely broken. She said,

Imagine you are a beautiful flower that is just about to bloom
When someone comes and rips you from the ground
And stomps on you
And leaves you there.
Then God comes and picks you up
He picks you up and he crys and crys
And his tears put you back together.
And you become new
You sprout from the ground
And you bloom!

You all can still bloom.
You all can still turn your tears into flowers.

She had those girls draw the flower they want to be. And then they sewed them onto cloth. And they carry that cloth with them where ever they go, for always, so they never forget the flowers they want to be. I'll have to post the poem as soon as I get it. It's much more beautiful than that rendition

I love you all.
I'll try to update again soon.


PS- this blog is not linked on the main website of the University of Tennessee. Check it out www.utk.edu